


For God’s Sake

by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gun Violence, High School, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Identity, Identity Reveal, Injury, Kidnapping, L - Freeform, Major Character Injury, Mild Fluff, Peter Parker Whump, School, Secret Identity, Shooting, Torture, Whump, barely any, not much though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays/pseuds/MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays
Summary: Peter knows he could escape. It would be so, so easy to break out of his bindings, throw his kidnappers through the wall, and run so quickly that he’d be home by midnight.The only problem?Flash Thompson was directly across from him, cuffed to the wall and bleeding from his cheek.——Or, Peter gets kidnapped with Flash and has to figure out how to get them both out without revealing his identity.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Flash Thompson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 84
Kudos: 1453
Collections: Identity Reveal x Field Trip, Peter Parker Slaps Severely





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Holding to the ground is starting to weigh on me. Here’s something a little more fun to tide you over while I work out the next chapter.

“Hey, no sleeping!”

Peter groaned and lifted his head from where it lay on the cold desk. Mr. Harrington wasn’t even looking at him, his eyes were trained on the grocery-store romance paperback in his hand.

With a sigh, Peter sat up straight and rubbed a hand across his face. Between patrol running late the night before and a rough morning with Flash, this detention was turning into Hell.

He could still feel Flash’s eyes trained on him, the glare boring into the back of his head. _It wasn’t even my fault,_ Peter thought bitterly, but it kind of was. He had been dozing off in second hour when Flash called him some name he couldn’t even remember by now, and his filter was evaporated by exhaustion. Without thinking he bit back, “Shut the fuck up, Flash,” and before he knew it, knuckles connected with his cheekbone. Three minutes and a lot of yelling later, Peter and Flash had their names written on the day’s detention list.

He shifted in his chair, trying not to watch the second hand slowly tick through its course on the clock. Instead, he thought about who he might save at patrol, the sandwich he would get from Mr. Delmar—payed for entirely in quarters—and which assignments were due when. It was as he wondered whether the small, round, colorful candies on Mr. Harrison’s desk were M&M’s or Skittles that the hairs on the back of his neck stood so sharply on end he thought that might fly off. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he could actually feel the blood moving through his veins.

Somebody was about to get hurt. Like, _really_ hurt.

Peter shot up from his chair, wide eyed and pale. He wanted to run, but where would he go? What would he do?

Mr. Harrington sighed and turned a page, and Peter wondered how he could be so calm before he realized no one knew what would happen but him. “You’re not allowed to leave your seat—“

He didn’t finish his sentence before the door burst open and three large men burst in, their faces covered and their scarred fingers wrapped around handguns. Before Peter could so much as scream, the leading man brought the butt of his gun down on Mr. Harrison’s forehead, who crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

”Holy shit!” Flash exclaimed, and for once, Peter agreed. The men turned to him and paused. The tallest whispered, “You didn’t say there’d be two!”

The one in the middle, shorter than the other two, replied, “I didn’t know there would be,” in a high voice, and Peter was almost shocked that this group was lead by a woman. He didn’t see much of that on patrol. “We’ll just take them both and raise the ransom.”

And then there were two guns trained on Flash and one on Peter. Ice flooded his veins as the woman and shorter man stalked towards Flash, leaving the taller to deal with him. All he could think was that everything was so different when he didn’t have the mask.

Flash threw his fist at the woman as soon as she was within arms reach. Of course, she grabbed it and used it to throw his body at the short man. He made quick work of duct taping Flash’s hands together as he struggled uselessly. “You can’t do this!” He cried. “My—my dad’s really powerful!”

”Yup,” the man grunted. “That’s kinda the point.” He shoved Flash, now bound tightly, back into the woman’s grasp, her gun trained on his temple. With the cold steel pressed against his skin, Flash finally had the good sense to go quiet.

The man approached Peter and turned him roughly, while the other kept his gun pressed to Peter’s forehead. Peter flinched as the duct tape wound around his wrists and forced himself to stay calm. He was Spider-Man, he could survive a little kidnapping. But then it hit him: he hadn’t planned on going out today. His suit was at home, neatly tucked in a drawer. And sure, he had his webshooters on him, safely concealed beneath the sleeves of his jacket, but he couldn’t use them without the mask. He _wasn’t_ Spider-Man. Right now, he was asthmatic high school sophomore Peter Parker, and he had to act like it.

Okay. Okay, this was fine. He could do this. He would keep his mouth shut, his identity a secret, let himself be carted away, and get saved by the NYPD within a day.

Of course, that plan all went to shit when his only defense mechanism took over. “You know, I’m actually kinda into this. Tighter?” He asked, pasting on a lopsided smile.

The woman groaned. “No, I’m not dealing with another snarker. Hit his leg.”

The tall man nodded, and lowered his gun to Peter’s left calf.

It was at this very moment Peter realized that his senses had been right. Someone was going to get very hurt. The only problem was that that someone was him.

The gun went off with a bang.

Cold metal tore through his leg.

The world went black.

——

The first thing Peter noticed was the hard concrete ground beneath him. He groaned under the oppressive cold, seeping into his bones. His back ached in the awkward position he was propped in, slumped over with his arms above his head.

The second thing that Peter noticed, only a few seconds later, was the searing pain in his leg. He gasped and his eyes flew open, trained on his left calf. Where he expected to see a bloody, gaping hole, he saw his jeans cut off roughly below the knee and haphazard stitches holding together an almost-closed wound. He tried to reach down and move the skin, test its hold, but was stopped by cold metal. He looked up and saw two steel cuffs trapping his hands to the wall, the skin on his wrists already raw. Panic started to flow through his veins like ice water at what they could have found there, but he soon felt the familiar metal of his webshooters and breathed out a sigh of relief. They didn’t know anything, he told himself, and if he kept his cool, they wouldn’t.

With a resigned sigh, he shifted, getting ready to rip the cuffs out of the wall like tissue paper, when he heard a voice say, “Yo, are you awake?”

Goddamnit. Flash was there too.

Peter finally looked at the wall opposite him and saw Flash in the same position as him his knees drawn close to his chest. He was pale as a sheet, but looked a little more inconvenienced than scared.   
  
  


Peter sighed. “What do you think?”

Flash let out a breath, and if Peter weren’t still trying to process where he was, he would have said that he almost sounded relieved. “You’ve been out for hours. I thought you were dead! God, it would have sucked to have to watch Penis fucking Parker die.”

”Great,” Peter mumbled. “Even here, you’re an asshole.” Even as he said it, though, there was no bite to his words. He had to keep himself under control. He couldn’t act rash, or he might give too much away, one of them could get hurt. Well, worse than they already were.

Peter tried to shift again in a futile attempt to gain some sense of comfort, but cried out suddenly as the motion pulled on his stitches and bolts of pain shot through his leg.

“What the hell happened? What did you just do?” Asked Flash, somehow paling further at his clipped yell. When Peter finally focused his eyes on Flash’s face to calm him down, he saw more than just a scared expression; a growing bruise blossoming on Flash’s cheek, blood sluggishly trickling out of a small gash accompanying it.

  
“Dude, you’re bleeding!” Peter said. “Did they hurt you?”

Flash blinked. “Hurt me?! You just got shot, why do you care about me?”

“Whatever, that’s fine—“

”What do you mean, ‘ _whatever_ ’? That was fucking awful to watch, why are you just brushing it off?” Flash asked, his voice rising to almost a shout.

Peter pressed his lips together. It wasn’t like he could say ‘it’ll take you a week to heal that lip, this wound will be gone by Tuesday.’ So, he said nothing.   
  


Flash’s eyes fell. “Whatever, man.”

A long moment passed in silence. Peter could only stand so much of the tension in the room before he asked, “So, what happened before I woke up?”

Flash perked up, almost excited to tell the story. “Oh, it was crazy. After they shot you, they picked you up and put you in some kind of van and started sewing you up which was, like, super gross to watch, your blood is nasty—“

”Wait, what?”

”And then they brought us in here and obviously I fought, I’m not a pussy, but I spit on the lady when she cuffed me to the wall and she kind of, uh, punched me in the face.”

  
Peter hummed. It made sense.  
  


It was then that Peter heard three sets of footsteps almost a mile away but approaching rapidly. He leaned towards the door and focused all of his attention on the voices.  
  


The man whose voice he recognized as the one who had taped up him and Flash asked frantically, “Riley, what the hell are we gonna do about the other kid? We don’t know anything about him, and he looks dirt poor, anyways.”

The woman—Riley—replied, “Look, we have Eugene, which is all we need. We just stick to the plan, and if we can get the other kid to make some noise, Thompson might pay more. Think of it as a tip.”

A third voice muttered, “Sounds more like bullshit to me.”   
  


“Well, you’re an asshole, I don’t care what you think. Keep bitching and I’m taking your cut, your info, and your stupid jacket.”

”You know what—“

Suddenly, Flash started talking again, effectively drowning out the voices of their kidnappers. Peter groaned.

”But I didn’t just take it, you know, I was like ‘you guys aren’t gonna get me to talk’ and they were like—“

”Flash, shut up.”

”Well, they didn’t say anything, they brought you in which was kinda a three person job—“

”Flash, _shut up!_ ”

Flash clamped his mouth shut in surprise. Peter strained his ears, but the kidnappers had ended their conversation, and all that was left was the sound of their pounding feet on the cold floor. Peter swore and leaned his head back against the wall.

”What’s your problem?” Flash asked incredulously. “I was about to get to the good part, like, my escape plan and everything.”

Peter sat straight up. “What? No, man, you’re not trying anything.”

Flash faltered, barely for a second. ”What, you’d rather sit here until they shot you again?” Flash scoffed.

”Yeah, I would. It’s better than trying to muscle my way out.” He could have quite easily, but that would give away too much, that would tell everyone his secret.

”God, you’re such a coward!” Flash hissed. “One of my screws is loose, I think if I can somehow turn around in my knees and use my teeth I might be able to get it out—“

”Stop it.” Peter’s voice was hard, and Flash seemed almost surprised. “You’re not doing anything. You’re cuffed to the wall, and even if you weren’t, three people with guns are about ten seconds away from busting in here. You try anything, they’re putting a bullet in you, too. Just for once, be quiet and do what you’re told.”

Flash cocked his head. “How do you know they’re—“

Just then, the door banged open, and both boys flinched. Riley lead the group, Asshole and Duct Tape each training a gun on each of them. Flash’s bravado immediately drained away, and he shrunk into the wall.

”Okay, boys,” said Riley, the scarf tied around her face rustling with her lips. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Eugene, you’re calling your Daddy and begging him to send five hundred thousand in cash to this address. Tell him that it’s Riley and she wants him spill. Trust me, he’ll know what it means.” She shoved a slip of paper into his shaking hands. Then, she gestured to Peter. “You in the corner, you keep your mouth shut. We don’t need this to be any harder than it is. Got it?”

Peter bit his cheek to keep from blurting out another retort, just nodding instead. The woman took a phone from her pocket that Peter recognized as Flash’s and held his face up to it. It recognized his features and unlocked automatically.

”Call Dad,” she said loudly into the speaker.   
  
  


“ _Calling Mr. Thompson_.”

Flash blushed as the phone began to ring. It rang once, then twice, before a deep voice said, “ _Flash, your school has called my five times already, what the hell did you do? Do you need bail money?”_

”I’m not doing this,” Flash hissed to Riley.

”Oh yeah?” She asked, shoving the barrel of his gun into his side. “How about now?”

Flash gulped, his eyes wide. He turned slowly back to the phone, His voice shaking as he said, “D-dad, you’re really not gonna like this.”

_”Who did you beat up this time? Look, I’ll send over Leonard to clear it up, I don’t know why you’re calling me._ ”

”No, it’s—it’s not like that.”

” _Then what’s it like? I’m in a taxi in Bankok right now, I don’t have time to deal with you.”_

Tears started to well up in Flash’s eyes, and Peter felt something like pity poke through his overbearing fear. Flash’s voice shook as he said, ”Okay, but I’m really in trouble this time. I just...I need you to...”

Riley screamed through her teeth, “Just say it!”   
  


“But—“

”No ‘Buts’. Duncan?”

Duct Tape, whose real name was Duncan, approaches Flash slowly, taking a knife from his pocket as he walked. It was short, and Peter almost laughed at the idea of it hurting anyone before he remembered who he was, who Flash was. If they stabbed Flash in the wrong place, he could actually die, and Peter had no doubt this guy was dumb enough to hit a major artery.   
  


Duncan raised the knife above his head, just over Flash’s thigh, the metal glinting in the low fluorescent light. Flash squirmed and tried to skitter away, his face contorting in panic, but he was pinned. Before he could think, Peter blurted, “Hey, Asshole! His dad’s not gonna pay for a busted-up kid!”

Duncan stopped. “Oh, yeah?” He asked, his voice low.

Peter almost relented there, he was so scared, but continued with the kind of forced confidence he had on patrols. “Yeah! You’re basically ripping up a check!”

Duncan paused, and for a moment, Peter thought he had succeeded in distracting him enough to stall any violence. He was wrong.

  
“Alright. We’ll rip up something else instead.”

Duncan rushed over and crouched next to Peter as Mr. Thompson asked a million questions frantically over the phone. He tightened his black glove and reached down to Peter’s leg. Before he could process anything, a finger was pressing down on his stitches and white hot pain filled his world.   
  


By the time the fire raging in his body receded back to just his calf, his breathing returning to normal and his vision clearing, Riley had hung up the phone and flung it against the wall, shattered pieces littering the freezing ground. Flash had tears running down his face and Peter felt something akin to shame. If he had just had the mask, he could have broken them both out of here a million times over, but instead he had to sit here and take hits that he instinctively wanted to dodge. But—but Flash was more or less unharmed. He was fine. He was okay. And as long as nobody but himself was hurt, then he was doing his job.

As the kidnappers discussed some wrench in their plan, he made a pact with himself. He wouldn’t reveal his identity unless Flash was in any real danger. Peter had been shot before, he could take a few more hits. Flash, on the other hand, could die from a simple beating. Peter almost groaned out loud at what he was doing for his long-time bully. It didn’t matter who he was, though. Peter wouldn’t let anyone else die. So until they tried to put a bullet through Flash’s skull, Peter stayed cuffed by metal he could shatter like glass.

The kidnappers all nodded at one another and opened up to face Peter and Flash. Peter thought inappropriately that they looked like a group of schoolchildren who were overly proud of their biology presentation. “Alright,” said Riley, “Your dad’s not paying us the ransom, and he’s not spilling, either. He said he’d involve the police, which makes this a whole lot more difficult. And I’m pretty sure Screamer over here is the one that complicated all of this, so we’re taking his phone, too. Let’s find out who he’s connected to. Maybe if they pay instead, we’ll let out Eugene before I snap his neck.”

Duncan pulled Peter’s cracked IPhone four out of his pocket. He held it up to Peter’s face. “What’s the passcode, kid?”

Peter laughed, but he was so terrified he could have died. His phone had Spider-Man business on it, and sure, it was coded into a million different phrases and encryptions, but it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. He was pretty sure it would take three boneheads long, either.

He forced an artificial lightness into his voice and said, ”Look at my shoes, man. Do I look like I have anyone with enough money to pay ransom? I can’t even afford Walmart-brand.”

  
Riley growled from across the room, “This is about way more than just money. Don’t get involved in shit you don’t understand.”

”Oh, I understand, all right,” Peter said. “You’re just a band of idiots making empty threats to a couple of kids. You’re not gonna shoot us, because then you’d lose the only leverage you’ve got.”

”Oh yeah?” Said Duncan right next to his ear as cold metal was pressed into his temple. “How about now? Still think that? Because if you’re not rich, and Thompson doesn’t care about you, we might as well blow your brains out right here.” As much as Peter wanted to freeze, unlock his phone and give himself a few minutes of peace until they inevitably found out everything he was and ruined his life, he forced himself to sigh nonchalantly.

”This ‘gun to the head’ routine is getting really old. You should try something new. Poke out my eye, make me piss in public, switch it up, y’know?”

Riley laughed, and Peter looked up to see her gun in Flash’s mouth, effectively gagging him with metal. Peter blanched at his tear-streaked face and trembling chest. His smile dropped, and Riley laughed. “Alright, how about this? Open your phone or Eugene gets it.”

All it took was one muffled sob from Flash for Peter to remember that this wasn’t about him. Forcing down his own angry tears, he sighed, “Fine. Zero-eight-one-zero. Just let him go.”

The phone unlocked, and Duncan nodded. Riley returned it and stood up, taking her gun with her. Flash winced but relaxed, slumping over himself, held upright only by the cuffs pinning him to the wall.

”Come on,” she said to Duncan and Asshole. “We can figure this shit out in the hall.”

They left and slammed the door shut, locking it with a click, which Peter thought was rather redundant considering both of their victims were bolted to the wall. He breathed a sigh of relief and finally slumped over, biting his lip to keep from moaning in pain as the fire in his leg took over his now free-from-distractions mind.

”Hey, Parker,” Flash whispered like there was anyone there to hear them. “Parker! You okay?”

Peter choked out a groan. “I’m fucking peachy,” He said through heavy pants, but the words held no real bite.

Flash’s voice quivered as he said, “Dude, my dad says he’s not paying. What are we gonna do?”

And Peter somehow found his throat suddenly choked, unwanted tears stinging his eyes. Why did he feel so helpless? He was Spider-Man, but here he was, acting like the terrified teenager he was. Shakily, he said, “I don’t know. Just—just stay quiet, alright? Don’t piss them off or they’ll hit you.”

”Oh, you’re one to talk! You mouth off to these guys, like, every other minute!”

”Yeah, well, that’s different!” Peter snapped, shooting his head up to glare at Flash. “We’re not the same, okay? Stop pretending we are!”

Flash blinked, and his attitude was gone. After a second of silence, he asked quietly, “What do you mean, ‘different’?”

And before Peter could correct himself, try and keep his secret, he heard Riley from whisper, “What the fuck?” Through the door.

Peter froze. They knew. They found a picture he forgot to cover up, a voicemail from Happy, they knew who he really was, they knew he was Spider-Man, they knew, they knew, they knew—

“How does this kid know _Tony Goddamn Stark_?”

Goddamnit.


	2. Chapter 2

Fuck.

_Fuck._

To Peter, this was almost worse than them finding out about Spider-Man. As far as he knew, these people just wanted money, which was fine for someone without personal connections to one of the richest men alive. Which, of course, he had.   
  


The kidnappers were still talking outside, and Flash was chattering uselessly about his ‘escape plans,’ but he wasn’t listening. He couldn’t. Anxiety started to bubble up in him, shooting through his body like ice. They were going to call Tony, and then he’d know that Peter couldn’t save himself, that he’d let his friend get kidnapped, that he was unfit to be a hero, and then he’d take the suit away again and Peter would really have nothing. He’d have to let himself be carted out of the building by Iron Man, knowing all the whole how angry Tony would be beneath the metal. Was it always this hard to breathe? Where did all of the _air_ go?

The door opened with another _bang_ , so loud that Peter flinched. Riley lead Duncan and Asshole into the room. Flash wilted, but they didn’t go for him. Instead, they turned towards Peter.

”So,” said Riley, “We found something interesting out there. It turns out our little spare is much, much more useful than we thought, isn’t he?” She smiled, and Peter was sure no smile had ever struck so much fear into his heart (He pushed away the thought of the Vulture’s yellow grin).

  
Okay, Peter could do this. Feign stupidity, maybe they’d give up, or even just stall long enough for the police to show up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, staring up at them.

Riley didn’t seem surprised. She nodded at Duncan, who crouched until he was level with Peter. He shoved the phone up to Peter’s face, with Tony’s contact filling up the screen. “Call him,” he said.

Peter forced himself to laugh around the lump in his throat. “You really think I know him? That’s just an inside joke with my friend. Come on, man, don’t be stupid.”

Duncan didn’t flinch. “Call. Him.”

Peter’s false smile fell, and his stomach dropped like a rock. “I’m not doing this—“

A fist connected with his nose before he could finish his sentence. Peter’s cry of pain turned into a gurgle as blood poured from his nose and into his mouth and his eyes watered against his will. Dimly, though the ringing in his ears, he heard the phone start to ring and wanted to cry.

_Please don’t pick up, please don’t pick up, please don’t pick up—_

“ _Hey, Kid. What do you need?_ ”

Fuck.

Peter suppressed a pained groan and gasped. “H-hey, Mr. Stark. I actually don’t need anything, thanks, I should actually go—“

” _How many times do I have to tell you, it’s just Tony.”_

”Oh, yeah. Uh, sorry, I just—“

Duncan covered the speaker and whispered, “Don’t waste my time. Just ask for the money.”

The speaker was shoved back into his face, barely an inch from his mouth.

” _So, why are you calling? You’re not running into some burning building, are you?_ ”

_It would be better if I was,_ Peter thought. “Nope. No, I’m not, so I’m actually going to just go— _ow_!” He cut himself off as Duncan pinched his bicep so tightly that it ripped the skin, leading a trail of blood down his forearm.

” _Are you hurt? What happened? FRIDAY didn’t say you were in the suit, where are you?_ ”

“I promise, I’m fine!” He struggled through the blood. “Don’t worry, okay? I didn’t even mean to call you!”

” _I know that’s a lie. Tell me where you are, I’m sending over a suit.”_

“I swear to God, kid,” whispered Duncan slowly, like a warning.

Peter looked him dead in the eyes, refusing to waver under his hard glare, and defiantly said, “I’m fine.”

Suddenly, Duncan clapped a hand over Peter’s mouth, bringing the phone to his own mouth. Peter knew that he would give up on Peter talking and just demand the money himself, knew that Tony would send it and save them without hesitation, knew that Tony would never trust him to handle himself again if he did. In a split second decision, he kicked out his foot with just a bit too much strength for a normal sixteen year old. His tattered shoe connected with Duncan’s hand, and the phone flew across the room, shattering against the far wall and falling into dozens of pieces on the ground.

For a moment, everything stopped. Peter could _hear_ the electricity fizzling out of the broken phone and into the open air. Everyone in the room just stared in silence at what was possibly the worst decision of Peter’s life.

Then, Flash said, “Why the _fuck_ would you do that?!”

Riley _screamed_. She stomped the cement floor almost childishly, but this was no tantrum. “Fuck it!” She yelled. “Nobody’s paying, and now Iron Man is on his way to kill us!”

”Come on,” Duncan said tentatively, “We don’t know if it was really him—“

”Yes, we do!” She said, pacing around the room, her steps uneven and erratic. “We read the texts, we saw the pictures! We kidnapped a hero’s little shit, and he’s probably rocketing over here right now!”

She stopped in front of Peter, staring at him with crazed eyes, her chest heaving. Despite his best efforts, he shrunk underneath her gaze, drawing his knees into his chest. She laughed at his reaction, just barely. “Okay,” she said. “Alright. We’re getting rid of all of this, right now.”

”Get rid?” Asked Flash.   
  


“ _Shut up_!” She screeched at him. He did. Still panting, she took her gun out of her pocket with a trembling hand.

Asshole, who still didn’t have a name, said quietly, “Hey, we’re not actually killing them, right? You—you said we’d just get the money and get out.”

”Yeah? Well that whole plan changed when Tony _fucking_ Stark got thrown into the equation. Duncan, you’re on Eugene, Kelly, you’re on the spare.”

”Hey!” Duncan cried out, stepping towards her, “You can’t—“

”What? Use your real names? They’re dead in a minute, they won’t tell anyone! Now do it, or you’re getting it before them.” To punctuate her sentence, she clicked the safety off of her gun and aimed it directly at his forehead.

After a moment of hesitation, then men started moving. Peter ignored Kelly striding towards him, watching the terror in Flash’s eyes as Duncan’s gun trained on his head.   
  


“You—you can’t do this, guys!” He pleaded. “Come on, you’ll never get any money this way!”

”We’re way past money now,” muttered Kelly, and he almost felt bad for the guy, caught up in double kidnapping just to make a quick buck.   
  


Both men trained the guns on their targets, gripping the metal uncomfortably. Peter watched a tear slip out of Flash’s pale, scrunched eyes as Duncan’s finger found the trigger.

In a split second, Peter knew what he would have to do. That single tear told him. And somehow, he wasn’t afraid anymore.

Just as the barrel of the gun pressed into Flash’s head and death hung heavy over the room, Peter yelled, “For God’s sake!”

Every head in the room swiveled to stare at him, too shocked by his scream to move as he ripped out of his thick metal cuffs like they were paper.   
  


“I wasn’t going to do this, okay? I was completely happy to let Flash’s dad go bankrupt, but then you took it too far!”

He snatched the gun from Kelly’s hand—who was still standing frozen—and broke it like it were plastic, casting the pieces aside. He shot a web at Duncan’s pistol and, once he had snatched it away, did the same.

“I mean, my entire life is based around this one stupid secret I’ve been trying to hide, and now you go and force my hand!”

With a single strike, he knocked out Duncan and threw him across the room so hard that the wall cracked where he landed. Flash’s bruised mouth hung open.

”Seriously, man! I don’t even _like_ Flash! He’s an asshole, but my entire job is saving people! This isn’t my fault, you guys are the kidnappers!”

Kelly charged him from behind, but Peter dodger it easily. He grabbed Kelly’s arm as he passed and used the momentum to fling them both up in the air, where Peter webbed him to the high concrete ceiling and crawled across the ceiling to the only lightbulb, which he shattered, plunging them all into darkness that only his eyes could register. Glass shards rained down over Flash, who curled into himself as best he could in his restraints.

”And now, I’m going to have to explain to Mr. Stark why we need a whole NDF for Flash, who again, has bullied me for years! He punched me in the face today! Riley, you probably would have gotten away with this if he hadn’t gotten me detention!”

  
Riley gasped after hearing her own name, and Peter watched her stumble in the direction of his voice, tripping over Flash’s outstretched foot.

  
“Duncan!” She called. “Help me out!” Duncan was unconscious on the floor.

Peter crawled to the other side of the room. Riley whipped around as he said, “That’s the whole reason I didn’t want to give you my phone password. Do you even know how much confidential shit is on there? Somehow, you idiots didn’t find it, which I thought was impossible.”

Riley gripped her gun, the last working one in the room, and aimed it at a a random corner of the ceiling with shaking hands. “Duncan!” She called. “Kelly!”

Peter dropped to the floor in front of her, landing with a soft _thump_ before straightening and walking straight towards her blind eyes.

“Your buddies are out of the equation,” he said calmly. “It’s just you and me, Riley.”

She whirled around at the sound of his voice, pointing her gun slightly to his left. “What the hell are you?!” She screamed.   
  


Peter just smiled, confidence flooding his young body and helping him stand just a little taller, walk just a little faster.  
  


“I’m Spider-Man.”

Everything happened at once. Riley’s gun went off. Webs sprayed across a wall. Somebody screamed.

Then, everything was silent.

Peter smashed the locked on the door and ripped it open, light flooding the room. He turned back and took a moment to survey the wreckage: three unconscious bodies littered the walls, accompanied by shards of glass, plastic, and cell-phone remnants. A bullet-hole cracked the wall barely an inch from where his head had been only moments before. Not how he had planned for his evening to go.

He rushed over to Flash, who had his head between his knees. “Hey, man, this might hurt a little,” he said before ripping the cuffs out of the wall. Flash flinched and slowly raised his head. His eyes were the size of dinner plates and he blinked, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

”Dude, you’re—you—“

”Yup,” said Peter as he hauled Flash to his feet. “I am. That doesn’t matter right now. We’ve got to get out of here, okay? Are you hurt?”

Flash quickly surveyed himself and shook his head, though Peter did see something like guilt in his eyes, locked on Peter’s bloody face. 

“Good.” Peter ushered him into the hallway, and Flash was not hesitant to take off at a sprint towards the nearest door. Peter followed and quickly passed him, although he was much slower than he would usually be. Every pounding footstep sent bolts of pain up his legs, every inhale burned his nose, and the scrapes covering his arms and legs were only agitated by the movement of his clothing. But still, he kept going, running and running until he burst through a large metal door and into the dark outdoors.

He skidded to a stop, jumping out of the way just as Flash barreled past him. Night had called, but Peter knew this area from some of his longer patrols, where he ventured beyond Manhattan and Queens.

Peter nodded to his left. “Come on, Man,” he said to Flash, and started walking in that direction.

Flash quickly caught up to him, and they walked in silence for a long moment, Peter surveying the area around for any dangers, Flash rubbing the bruise on his cheek.

Suddenly, Flash exclaimed, “You stole my car!”

Peter blinked. “What?”

”If you’re—you know, _him_ —you stole my car! At homecoming! What the hell?”

Peter remembered that night. He remembered stealing and crashing Flash’s car. He also remembered Flash bragging about Spider-Man asking for his help to anyone who would listen.   
  


“Look,” Peter said, “It was that or Liz’s dad was gonna kill me. It was _literally_ life or death.”

Flash stopped in his tracks. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

”What?” Peter asked, annoyed that they had stopped. His entire body hurt, and he just wanted to get home as soon as possible.

”You’re _Spider-Man_ ,” Flash said. “You’re—how the hell is this possible? You can’t be—you—You’re just Penis Parker! How are you Spider-Man?!”

Peter groaned. “A weird spider bit me and when I was done throwing up for a week I had abs, okay? Can we start walking again?”

  
“I mean, you’re a dweeb! You didn’t even show up to the Washington DC tournament and—Wait. Wait, holy shit, did you catch our elevator?!”

” _Yes_. It’s unbelievable because I’m a loser, I know. Let’s go, or I’m webbing you down, too.”

Flash gulped and quickly resumed his steps, and Peter smiled. Three hours ago, Flash wouldn’t have listened to him, even if he was telling him not to jump off of a cliff. Even as they walked, Peter steering them towards main roads in hopes of being seen by a police officer, Flash asked, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

”What do you mean?” Peter replied.

”I mean, you’re a superhero. Why didn’t you just, like, show off in gym or something? Show off muscles for Liz?”

Peter blushed, but quickly shook the fantasy away and shrugged. “If anyone really knew who Spider-Man was, there’d be some crazy people on my doorstep daily. I’d be risking the lives of everyone I knew.”

Peter’s eyes widened at something he had forgotten. Someone knew his identity. _Flash fucking Thompson_ knew his identity. If he said a word to anyone, Peter was screwed. Suddenly, desperation lacing his voice, he said, “Flash, you can’t tell anyone I’m Spider-Man. If word got around, I’d—I’d be in danger, and so would everyone at Midtown. Ned, MJ, even you. And—And someone could go after May, and she’s all I have left. If you tell, everyone I’ve ever met is at risk. My life is like, actually ruined—“

” _Okay_ , Dude.”

Peter shut his mouth, cutting off his rambling. “What?”

”I mean I won’t tell anyone,” Flash said, glancing at him for just a second.

”Oh,” Peter said simply. “Thanks.”

For almost five minutes, they walked in silence, Peter leading Flash around corners when necessary. Peter’s heart was racing. Why would Flash relent so easily? Did he have something planned? Was he just saving this secret, waiting until Peter pissed him off to spill his secret to his stupid vlog and force him into hiding, obscurity? God, Peter almost regretted breaking out of those cuffs. He’d rather have a bullet in his head than have the world know his identity.   
  


Flash talking pulled him out of his thoughts. “So,” he said slowly, “why did you never hit me back?”

”Hm?” Peter hummed, looking up from where his eyes were trained on his feet and trying to ignore the fear racing through his bones.

”I mean, why did you never fight back when I was a dick to you? You probably could have crushed me. Why didn’t you?”

Peter shrugged. “It’s just not my thing. If I used my powers, I would be going against everything I do. Besides, I could seriously hurt you, and i don’t want to risk your life for some revenge.”

”But, like, you could have just pushed me enough to get me to back off. But you didn’t.”

”I mean, I guess,” said Peter, guiding them over the Brooklyn Bridge. “It was just too big a risk. One time I tried to hug my aunt and accidentally broke her rib. She thought for months that she had osteoporosis, and I didn’t know what to tell her, so I— _ah!_ ” Peter shouted suddenly as his foot caught a hole and he fell to the ground. The haphazard stitches on his leg tore on impact and white hot pain flashed across his mind. Blood started to flow again, hot down his skin in the cold air.   
  


“What happened?” Flash asked, crouching to his side.

Peter scrunched his eyes shut, breathing heavily against waves of nausea and stabbing pain. “I tore my stitches,” he panted through gritted teeth.

“You _what?_ ” Flash asked in horror, his eyes trained on the already-growing pool of blood beneath Peter’s leg.

  
Peter tried shakily to stand, ignoring Flash’s questions, but the moment he put weight on his wounded leg he cried out and collapsed back to the ground. It felt like he was being shot all over again, sharp pain radiating through his entire body.

  
“I can’t— _fuck_ —I don’t think I can keep walking.”

”Yeah, no shit!” Flash exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “What are we gonna do?”

Peter breathed heavily, trying to hold back pained groans. Did being shot always hurt this bad? The few times a bullet had grazed him before, it had burned, sure, but nothing in his memory had every been this painful. “Just—“ A heavy pant. “Fuck, just tie your jacket around my leg. Tight as you can, like a tourniquet.”

”Uh, yeah, okay,” Flash said quickly, slipping his jacket off of his shoulders. The moment he touched Peter’s leg, he threw his head back and groaned through gritted teeth, a tear slipping out of his scrunched eyes. “Sorry!” Flash yelped, starting to tie the jacket as tight as he could, than tighter.

The blood still flowed in a steady stream, but it was just a little bit slower, and to Peter’s joy, he could already see his skin fighting to knit itself back together.

”We’ve got to get home,” he said. “I’m not about to bleed out on this stupid bridge.” He started to sit up on his elbows, wheezing with every move.

Flash stood. “How?” He asked incredulously.

”Uh,” Peter stalled surveying his urban surroundings. “If I’m careful,” he said quickly, “I think I can swing back home. It’s mostly arms, anyways. I just can’t move my leg, and I have to hold onto you, and I can’t run into any buildings. But, like, it’ll be fine—“

He was cut off by the sound of metal landing on the concrete behind him. “No, you won’t,” said a deep voice, and he turned over his shoulder to see the Iron Man suit, the faceplate flipped up to show Tony’s face contorted in worry. From the corner of his eye, he saw Flash all but faint.

”H-Hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter said, trying to force lightness into his voice. “What are you—how did you find us?”

”You called me, tried to hang up, and screamed in pain. I’m not a dumbass, I’ve been looking for you. Apparently, you’re a missing persons case now.”

Peter grimaced. “Yeah. About that, we got a little bit kidnapped, and I might have had to reveal who I was. And webbed three people to a wall a few miles back. And ripped my stitches.”

Tony finally looked down, and his eyes widened at the pool of blood beneath Peter, soaking his clothes and Flash’s shoes. “Holy, shit,” he muttered. “Okay, kid, we’re going to the Tower. Just hang on, alright?”

Peter nodded, though his face expressed uncertainty. He let himself be scooped up into the suit’s arms, biting his lip to keep from screaming as his leg was jostled. Once he was secure, Tony turned towards a still-dumbstruck Flash, and said, “My driver is on his way to pick you up. Stay here, don’t tell anyone about what’s happened, and don’t sign shit without my fiancé there. Got it?”

Flash slowly nodded, and Peter wasn’t sure he had heard a thing Tony had said. It didn’t matter, though, because his blood was beginning to cascade down the metal of the suit, and the edges of his vision were dotted with black.

”Cool. Hold on, Pete,” Tony said, and before Peter could confirm his safety, shot off into a typical New York midnight.

——

Peter sipped slowly from a hospital-brand juice box, observing his brand new-and-improved stitches, done by a professional in a hospital rather than an unhinged lady in a van.

He was in the MedBay, sitting in one of the many beds, all the others of which were empty. He sighed, and checked his watch. Two in the morning. At least he wouldn’t have to go to school the next day. He hadn’t done his Spanish homework.

The door slowly opened. Peter thought that it was Tony again, who had been darting in and out of the room, trying to settle a million different forms of paperwork. Instead, he saw the hooked nose and dark skin of Flash Thompson, a butterfly bandage holding together the small cut on his cheek.

”Hey,” Peter said quietly.

”Hey,” Flash replied.

For a moment, they looked at anything but one another, sitting in an awkward silence. Then, Flash explained. “They, uh, sent me up here to make sure I’m not more hurt.”

”Well, you didn’t get shot,” Peter snorted. Flash managed a weak laugh.

”Yeah, I guess.” After a second, Flash walked over to Peter and perched hesitantly on the bed next to him, surveying his clean clothes and bruised face. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

”What, getting shot? It had to happen sometimes, better with someone than alone, right?”

”No, I mean—“ Flash paused, took a breath. “I mean for saving me. Thanks. For that.”

Peter set down his juice. “It was that or letting you die. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

”But you could have,” Flash said, finally meeting Peter’s eyes, and Peter saw what looked like guilt on his face for the first time in his life. “I’ve made your life Hell these past few years. You could have been done with it in a second.”

Peter took a breath. “Flash,” he started, “No offense, man, but you’re a small-time bully. In comparison to the shit I see every night, you’re like some tiny monkey throwing peas at me. Which isn’t very far off, honestly.” Peter smiled, just barely.

  
Flash returned it briefly, and stared at his scuffed shoes. “I was still an asshole, though.”

”You’re a kid.”

”So are you,” Flash said, finally meeting his eyes, and in them Peter saw some deep stirring he’d never seen before. Peter just sighed, because he wasn’t sure how true that was.

  
“Just don’t feel bad about it,” he said after a few seconds. “Again, at least you didn’t crush me under a building.”

Flash chuckled lightly. “Well, thanks, man.”

The following silence wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable: there was simply nothing more to say.

  
Flash sat up straight, seemingly out of the blue. “Wait, you got _crushed_ under—“

Before he could continue, a man in a fresh-pressed suit burst through the door, a rumpled Tony hot on his heels. “Sir, this area is for patients only—“ he rambled, but the man wasn’t listening.

“Where the hell is—Eugene!” He exclaimed, his eyes widening once they landed on Flash. He rushed over to him and surveyed his ripped clothes and bruised face.   
  


Flash’s face burned a deep red. “Hey, Dad,” he muttered, beginning to turn away. His father, however, was quick to envelop him in a hug. Flash didn’t move, and was stiff in his arms with surprise. He blinked into his father’s shoulder, frozen.

”I thought you were dead,” the man whispered into Flash’s hair. “When they found the warehouse but you weren’t there, I thought they’d taken you somewhere else. I thought I’d lost you.”

And slowly, slowly, slowly, Flash wrapped his arms around his father.

After a long moment, he pulled away, staring deep into Flash’s eyes with his brow furrowed. “What happened?” He asked.

Flash shot Peter a quick glance. Peter paled, his heart dropping to his feet. If Flash was going to expose him, it would be now. This would be his end, his demise. Flash would tell his powerful father, who would sell the story to the paper, and then Peter would have to take May and Ned to a hidden cave and Siberia for the rest of their lives before—

“Well, out of all of it, meeting Spider-Man for the second time was the totally best part. He left after he saved us, though. I have no clue where he is now.”

Oh.

Flash continued with the story, Tony jotting down notes on some tablet, but Peter wasn’t really listening. Something calm and serene started to replace the freezing fear in his veins. 

  
For the first time in his life, something that Flash Thompson said had made Peter smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeehaw pls comment


	3. Authors note

Yo, ao3 does this glitchy thing that makes the date updated not be the actual date updated, but a few days before. To keep my fic from being buried before anyone can see it, I’m writing this note to bring it back to the top, and the second chapter was uploaded on February 25.

Happy Mardi Gras, y’all! Thanks for reading, and remember, I’m always a whore for comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, please!


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